AN: This is my first entry into the Inception world and it takes the form of a series of random scenes based around songs that I think fit the characters and/or the situation i dream up. Any and every review will be cherished and constructive criticism is welcomed open heartedly. Thanks for reading and hopefully enjoying.
Disclaimer: Oh how I wish these brilliant characters sprang forth from my mind but they didn't so I cannot claim anything as my own. I also do not own the song "This is the Song (Good Luck)" by The Punch Brothers; however, I do wish I had 1/10 0f the musical genius that Chris Thile possesses.
"I put a shore in front of our apartment
And watched you comb the stoop for shards of porcelain
Satisfied that there were none that broke the silence
And after this I promise not to interrupt again.
Cause this is the song where I listen
This is the song where I sit still
Until our heartbeats drown out the clock ticking
And the song becomes I love you and always will.
Good luck, good luck, good luck, these are tough times.
We'll get by."
It is late afternoon when he finds her sitting, knees pulled to chin, on the old, graying deck watching the tides come and go in their never ending rhythm. Quietly, he leans against the peeling door frame, eyes never leaving her slight frame (the stillness of her contrasting drastically against the relentless motion of the ocean). He pulls a hand wearily down his face knowing that this (the beach, the ocean . . .) is the last effort in reaching her, reclaiming her.
"I think it's time to leave," she whispers, her voice floating back to him on the slight breeze.
Suddenly he is in motion. The tea cup balancing precariously in forgotten hands slips slowly to the ground shattering in a crash that falls upon deaf ears and then he is besides her, hands grasping shoulders tightly dragging her against him.
"What don't you like?" He asks, voice cracking, lips brushing against strands of hair.
"This is not real," she sighs quietly, acceptingly.
Slowly, she untangles from his grasp and pushes wearily to her feet before collecting the splintered remains of the porcelain.
"Why?" He asks, slowly stopping her movements with a hand to her arm.
She leans back against his solid warmth, "If this were real," she says, "You wouldn't be here."
He holds her for awhile rocking to the tempo of the waves before whispering that he loves her and always will. She turns in his arms, burrowing further into his embrace, and cries.